Phoebe sat on the cypress trunk with her feet dangling high above the water. Silver was there, next to her, but she wasn't paying attention to him. She reeled the line in fast; it hadn't taken long to get her first bite and the perch sailed through the air, fighting to get free. The lure she'd attached was shining even under the overcast sky.
Her body ached. So much so that it had been difficult to climb onto the partially-felled tree. Silver hadn't killed her once- he'd done it twice. And he'd lacked the courtesy to go back inside her once he was satisfied, which meant that he would have to maim her a third time. She was pretty sure that she was already running a fever.
When the fish was close enough, Phoebe grabbed the line and held it up. Silver watched it flail helplessly. Phoebe watched him watch it. His black eye sockets stayed transfixed on every movement until it finally stilled.
07.09.2025
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